Lust, Blackmail and The Whip

Discussion in 'Stories' started by Susan Strict, Apr 3, 2014.

  1. Susan Strict

    Susan Strict Member

    Here’s something a little different from a wonderful writer, Grendel Butler. The extract below is a chapter from the book Lust, Blackmail and The Whip, published by Strict Publishing International.

    I have always enjoyed bird watching and, having plenty of leisure time, I spend hours every week in the nearby woods or by the river with my binoculars and my camera. There are many woods around Much Clacking, and one is a particular favourite of mine. The parish map calls it Brickett Copse, and it stands tucked away to one side of an unsigned and overgrown footpath that few people know and virtually no one uses.

    Brickett Copse is a safe, secure place, well away from roads, and there is nowhere to park within three-quarters of a mile. I am one of the very few people who knows it, and only because I have the time and the incentive to search for secret, unfrequented places. A dense barricade of gorse, low thorn, and bracken rings Brickett Copse; this is continuous and virtually impenetrable except for a single and well-hidden gap on the further side from the unmarked footpath. This dense ring of sharp foliage screens its interior, where leaf mould and nettles carpet the ground, and green, mysterious light slants down through the canopy. Thick-trunked beeches pillar skywards, and their high boughs arch over it like the gothic vaulting of a ruined cathedral.

    Like all dark, secret places, it seems a fitting setting for sinister rituals and shameful deeds, a place for witches and warlocks to perform their satanic rites, an altar for sacrifices, a resort for discreet homosexuals, and a venue for everything furtive. I have loved it ever since I discovered it, and I have wished that I had something less innocent to do there than watch the larks and corncrakes, some shameful deeds to perform there and a depraved woman to share them with.

    I think that was partly why I started to fancy Eleanor more than I did Caroline. I had seen her enjoy her secret sex and, like me, she was secretive. Her public persona stoutly and dishonestly denied the lonely sexual delights she enjoyed with her black dildo in the privacy of her bedroom. For her, sex was a stealthy thing to practise alone, and discovery would shame her to death. I was similar. I posed as a respectable bibliophile and seller of antiquarian books, yet my secret sadistic desires and daily masturbations would have shamed me if known. So, although we scarcely spoke, I felt that Eleanor and I were kindred spirits. But how could I approach her? How could I tell her that I knew her secret and I revelled in it, because I liked her and was like her?

    One warm evening, a couple of weeks after the Spring Ball where I had tried to grab Eleanor’s bottom, I was lying under the gorse and bracken on the fringe of Brickett Copse, watching a tree creeper climb the underside of an overhanging branch. Something moved at the edge of my vision, and I rolled over to see more clearly what I assumed was a fox, a buzzard, or a muntjac. To my surprise, I saw Caroline approach along the overgrown path. Her magnificent breasts bounced rhythmically under her light jumper like two tethered marker-buoys in a sea swell. She carried a canvas bag and she was wearing black knee boots, strangely I thought, for the air was warm, the sky was cloudless, and the path was dry underfoot. What was she doing in this secret place so late in the day, for she was no bird watcher? Why come alone to Brickett Copse on a weekday evening – except to meet someone?

    Naturally, I assumed she was meeting a man. As she was a free agent, I assumed that he was not. He would be a man with a blameless reputation, whose house she could not visit when his wife was away, any more than he could be seen visiting hers. I assumed that she had come enjoy a stealthy shag with him, for the leaf mould in Brickett Copse would be soft and dry, and no one would see them – except perhaps a birdwatcher. My lips twisted to a smirk and my mouth watered with anticipation. It would be frustrating to watch the voluptuous Caroline shag another man, but this time I had my camera with me and I would enjoy seeing her heavy tits bouncing as she tossed herself off on him – for some intuition told me that she would be on top.

    I hunkered down, quiet and secure in my hiding place as she passed within a few feet, her big bottom swaying heavily under the folds of her thin summer skirt. She rounded the barricade of thorn and entered the spinney from the farther side. Squirming silently under the gorse, I saw her plainly, waiting under the trees in the green, dappled light, swinging her bag and kicking the leaf mould impatiently. I wondered if the man she was meeting had annoyed her in some way, for she looked angry. Perhaps she was meeting her lover for a confrontation. Then she looked back through the opening in the thorn and relaxed. She folded her arms and waited a little more patiently now, though one of her feet still twitched. I expected to see the man enter through the opening at any moment, having scrambled up through the fields from another direction, and I waited eagerly to see who he was.

    But Caroline’s secret companion was no man. When the second figure appeared through the opening, my mouth fell open, for it was Eleanor.

    “You’re late!†snapped Caroline, her voice throbbing with fierce unrestrained anger.

    “Sorry. Sorry.†Eleanor hung her head contritely and her fingertips fiddled together. “Please don’t be cross with me.â€

    Caroline’s foot twitched. “Sorry? I’ll teach you sorry. This isn’t the first time you’ve been late. Is it?â€

    Eleanor stood before her, round-shouldered and trembling.

    “Is it?â€

    “No. Sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.â€

    “Stop whining! Extend your hands!â€

    “Oh dear!†whimpered Eleanor, extending her hands like an automaton. Her head hung limply, like a discarded marionette’s. “Oh dear!†My eyes must have bulged as I watched Caroline reach into her canvas bag and retrieve a long coil of rope with a wide leather strap attached at one end. This she wrapped tightly round Eleanor’s proffered wrists. “Please. Please don’t -â€

    “Silence! I told you what would happen if you were late again, didn’t I?†Caroline said lazily, though I could hear the deep relish in her voice. “Well?†She threw the other end of the rope over an overhanging branch, and then wrapped it round a gnarled piece of root at her feet. Reaching into her bag again, she produced a metal locking device and threaded the rope through it. It was the sort of thing rock climbers use to enable a rope to be pulled one way, while preventing it from slipping back. “I said, didn’t I!â€

    “Yes,†whispered Eleanor forlornly, and so quietly that I could scarcely hear her. “Yes you did, but... oh dear!â€
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  2. Susan Strict

    Susan Strict Member

    Eleanor waited patiently. Her head hung deeply while Caroline fitted the device to the rope and then heaved on it, dragging the placid, doll-like arms skywards. She heaved more strenuously, the rope tightened, jerking the lighter woman rigidly upright and suspending her by her wrists with only the balls of her feet touching the leaf mould. Still her head hung, and her dark hair flopped forwards, obscuring her face. Blowing from the effort, Caroline reached into her bag a third time and withdrew a long, wicked-looking riding crop. With a truculent sneer, she flexed it under Eleanor’s nose, allowing her to contemplate it thoroughly.

    “You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you, slave?â€

    “You’re going to whip me, mistress,†replied Eleanor in a husky whisper that I could only just make out.

    “Very thoroughly,†Caroline hissed, and she made some vicious cuts through the air. “Very thoroughly indeed.â€

    Even from my hiding place, twenty yards away, I could hear the high-pitched whistle. I had gone through the same ritual years before when I thrashed Sandra. “Bloody hell! They’re dykes,†I muttered under my breath as I hunkered lower. This explained all their rebuttals. It explained Eleanor’s fierce masturbating. This explained everything.

    Or did it? I could not square it Eleanor’s smouldering glance. Or perhaps I could - if they swung both ways.

    “Where would you like to be whipped first, slave?†demanded Caroline imperiously, flexing the slender crop before Eleanor’s hanging face.

    “Wherever my mistress pleases,†said Eleanor, as if by rote.

    “Pleases? Huh! Where were you last night when I desired you to please me?â€

    Eleanor started to grizzle. “At a church fundraising meeting, mistress. Please don’t -â€

    “ And you didn’t think to ask your mistress’s permission first?â€

    “I’m deeply sorry, mistress. Please don’t - Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!â€

    Without warning, the slender riding crop had slashed furiously across the backs of her legs. Her thin cotton skirt offered no protection; she jerked on the rope’s end, her feet left the ground, and she gasped sharply.

    “Answer the question! Did you ask your mistress’s permission?â€

    “I’m sorry, mistress. I - Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!â€

    The crop slashed again. Eleanor wriggled and gasped more loudly.


    “Please be merciful, mistress!â€

    The slender riding crop slashed twice again. Eleanor danced in the air and screamed with pain.

    “I think I’ve been far too merciful, haven’t I, slave?â€

    “Yes, mistress,†sobbed Eleanor, hanging limp and wretched. “Much too merciful.â€

    “And how do you repay me?â€

    “I’m sorry, mistress. Truly I -â€

    “But I’m not going to make that mistake again. Am I?â€

    Eleanor’s voice trembled. “N–no, mistress.â€

    Her face hung, her black hair obscuring it, but I could see that her body was tense with expectation as Caroline slowly lifted the back of her skirt. The crop slashed six times; the branch swayed. Eleanor screamed and wriggled at the rope’s end. Her legs thrashed frantically as the merciless strokes lacerated the soft backs of her thighs. One of her shoes fell off and she sobbed pitiably.

    Brutally, Caroline seized her chin, pulled her face round, sneering into it. “Stop snivelling, slave! Your punishment hasn’t even started yet. Open your mouth!â€

    Eleanor did so. Caroline put the slender riding crop up to it and she took it between her teeth like an obedient dog while her mistress unfastened her skirt. It fell to the ground and I saw that under it she wore only a tiny pair of scarlet knickers. Black pubic hair spilled out all round the extravagantly bulging gusset. Her mistress regarded the knickers for some seconds, running her hands over them, before seizing the waistband and jerking it viciously towards her. Eleanor’s entire weight bore on the narrow knicker gusset that was now cutting into her slit. She swayed forward, her legs wriggling as her feet left the ground, and her remaining shoe fell off. I heard the fabric tear as the flimsy knickers ripped away on one side. Caroline ferociously tugged again and they tore completely free. Eleanor swung back to land dancing on her bare tiptoes as she fought for balance, white and completely naked from the waist down, except for the luxuriant forest between her legs.

    My cock had already stiffened, and now it became painfully erect. I rolled over silently to unzip my flies and free it. As I did so, Caroline contemptuously tossed the ripped knickers into some nearby bracken. She reached up inside the back of Eleanor’s thin jumper and unclipped her bra so that her pendulous breasts sagged a little more. Then, taking the slender riding crop from her slave’s mouth, she gripped it with her own teeth, and seized the front of the jumper and bra with strong hands. With a great heave, she pushed them up and over the back of Eleanor’s head so that they stretched round her shoulders and behind her neck like the straps of a rucksack, pulling her head forward.

    Eleanor’s voluptuous breasts spilled down her front, long, succulent, and more clearly visible in the evening light than they had been through her bedroom window. They sagged down over her stomach, but they were also full and heavy, thrusting towards her mistress and her watching admirer. The dark brown cones of her areolas extended three inches up them, and her long nipples tipped them like raspberry-nosed torpedoes. My mouth watered, and I wanked vigorously until I realized that I was wasting opportunity! Dropping my cock, I took up my camera and switched it on, praying that I had plenty of battery power left. The light turned green; I adjusted the zoom and focused on Eleanor’s succulent breasts.


    Caroline took her riding crop in hand again and poked the helplessly hanging breasts experimentally.


    “What shall we punish today, then? These disgusting slave jugs?â€

    “Yes, mistress.â€

    “What do you mean, yes mistress?†snarled Caroline, slashing hard across the exposed right nipple.

    “Aaaaaaargh!†Eleanor arched her back and her breasts leapt.



    “S-sorry, mistress. Please punish these worthless slave jugs, mistress.â€

    “And again!†The crop sliced viciously across the left nipple.

    “Aaaaaaargh!†The long, luscious breasts leapt again, then slapped back against Eleanor’s stomach as she spasmed with pain. “S-sorry, mistress. Please, please, please thrash these worthless jugs to your satisfaction.â€

    “I won’t take insolence!†shrieked Caroline.

    “No! Please, mistress!†The riding crop whistled repeatedly. Eleanor screamed, twisting like a fish on a line as her wonderful breasts flailed in all directions at once.

    Click! Click! Click! Click!

    I shot my load up the front of my shirt.

    Caroline seemed satisfied with that and walked round her suspended victim again. Eleanor hung there, her breasts billowing and deflating as she breathed hard, and the vicious welts across her nipples reddened.


    Caroline stopped behind her victim and appeared to contemplate whipping her bottom. She prodded it several times and gave it a couple of cursory cuts that made Eleanor squeal. Then she apparently thought better of it, and she sauntered slowly round the front again.

    “Open your legs!â€
  3. Susan Strict

    Susan Strict Member

    Eleanor silently obeyed; her feet left the ground as her legs parted, and the branch supporting her groaned as it took her full weight. Caroline reached between her open thighs and roughly seized her generous pubic bush. She toyed with it for a few seconds and then, with a vicious tug, she jerked it towards her. Eleanor shrieked and swung forward again, her legs bicycling in the air as she hung from her wrists and her taut pussy hairs.

    Click! Click!

    “What do you say to your mistress who’s soiled her hand on your filthy cunt hair?â€

    Eleanor gasped, her legs flailing. “Thank you, mistress. Th-thank you for noticing this slave’s filthy cunt hair.â€

    Caroline jerked the hair ferociously, twisting it back and forth. “Whose cunt hair, slut?â€

    Eleanor screamed afresh as Caroline tugged her up and down by her bush. “Aaaaargh! S-sorry, mistress. Aaaaargh! Your cunt hair mistress.â€


    “Which of my cunts, slave turd?†demanded Caroline, strenuously wrenching Eleanor this way and that by her tortured pubic hair.

    Eleanor’s head went back and she groaned aloud. Still Caroline wrenched her hairy crotch up, down, right, and left with powerful jerks. She strutted round in a wide circle, dragging Eleanor’s lower body by the hair like a child’s doll, twisting and yanking the pubic bush as she strutted. Eleanor shrieked afresh.

    “Aaargh! Aaargh! S-sorry, mistress. Your filthy number-two slave cunt, mistress. Aaargh! Aaaaaaargh!â€

    “And where’s my glorious number-one cunt?â€

    Eleanor screamed and twisted on the rope’s end, her legs frantically bicycling. “Aaargh! Between your own luscious thighs, my goddess. Aaaaargh!â€


    Caroline slid the riding crop into her belt. Still twisting the twitching pussy with one hand, she extended three fingers of the other and viciously corkscrewed them into Eleanor’s straining crack. “What’s this disgusting hole, slave?â€

    “Aaaaargh! The filthy number-two slave cunt, mistress,†gasped Eleanor, her body arching and her legs thrashing wildly on either side of Caroline’s broad hips as the fingers clawed ruthlessly at the tender lining of her vagina.

    Click! Click! Click!

    The fingers stabbed again, and I remembered how long and pointed Caroline’s nails were. “And where’s my glorious number-one cunt?â€

    “Aaargh! Snug and warm in you heavenly crack. Aaaaargh! My goddess,†gasped Eleanor between frantic sobs.

    Caroline released Eleanor’s pussy and she swung away to hang panting; her stomach creased and distended as she gulped breath. Her legs still twitched. She was whimpering pitifully now, and I noticed that her big breasts were suffering again. Caroline had a bruised nipple squeezed tightly between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, so that her long nails cut into them. She amused herself with them, jerking them back and forth as though milking a cow. Eleanor gasped and her legs writhed madly.

    Click! Click!

    “Nice and tender are they now, slave?â€

    “Yes, mistress. “ gasped Eleanor, her face streaming with makeup and tears, her expression rendered more ghastly by her forced rictus of a smile. “Lovely and tender, mistress.â€

    “Ready for more exacting torment?â€

    Eleanor’s body tensed; her forced smile became grisly. “Ripe and ready for your p-pleasure, mistress.â€

    Caroline grunted and stepped back, contemplating her victim, slapping her crop into the palm of her free hand, and pursing her lips as if making a difficult decision.

    “This will be extremely painful,†she said menacingly

    “Your slave will exult in her agony, mistress,†gasped Eleanor, slowly gyrating her torso as if she believed that rolling her heavy, throbbing mammaries around it would dull their pain. The whip marks had come out now, bright red wheals reticulated both breasts, and one nipple bled where Caroline’s nail had dug into it. Her face was a mess of grey tearstains.

    Without warning, the riding crop started scything with a slow regular rhythm as Caroline unleashed two dozen vicious, vertical strokes that brushed the tips of the already-savaged breasts. Eleanor’s dangling body thrashed and corkscrewed furiously. The rope hummed and the overhead branch groaned. At each cut of the remorseless lash, her succulent breasts thrashed about her with reckless abandon, as though on tormented springs, and she screeched like a roasting cat.

    Click! Click! Click! Click!

    When Caroline finally finished, Eleanor swayed from the creaking branch like a pendulum. Pain contorted her hanging face, her tongue lolled, and a long diadem of sputum slicked down from it. Her body glistened in the dying light, and her abundant pussy hair dripped with sweat, or urine, or cum. As she writhed more slowly, her tortured breasts swung gently like wet washing in a breeze, a mess of red wheals. Even from twenty yards, I could see that they trembled in agony.

    Caroline now released the contraption at the end of the rope and Eleanor fell quivering to the ground. Tugging the rope again, she jerked her slave’s wrists upwards, unbuckled the leather strap that tethered them, and then ripped Eleanor’s jumper and bra from her shoulders, leaving her completely naked and grovelling at her booted feet. Eleanor’s freed hands flew to her whipped and swollen nipples, pitifully trying to soothe them.

    “None of that!†snapped Caroline. The riding crop flashed; Eleanor screamed as her bottom twitched beneath four savage strokes. “On your hands and knees, you dog! Move your filthy arsehole!†Eleanor’s bottom shuddered as the crop sliced down twice more. “Go on! Crawl, like the animal you are! And if I don’t hear those bloated nipples scraping the ground, I’ll slice your flabby bottom cheeks into rashers. Crawl!â€

    “Y-yes, mistress,†groaned Eleanor, weeping as she squirmed forward in agonised jerks, her arms bent and her torso low. From my hiding place, I imagined that I could hear her whipped nipples dragging along the rough ground beneath her.


    “Go on! Through the nettles! Move!†Caroline savagely thrashed Eleanor’s bottom twice more, propelling her into a thick clump of stinging nettles. I heard sharp intakes of breath as the nettles stung her stomach, her thighs, and her raw breasts. “Go on! Wriggle!†screamed Caroline as the crop cut even more furrows in her slave’s struggling bottom.


    “Hurry, dogshit!â€

    Eleanor crawled towards me, her face smeared, her body throbbing. She spasmed and groaned as the riding crop sliced repeatedly into her naked bottom cheeks. I hunkered down further, keeping my camera to the fore.


    Caroline stomped up, very close to me, and turned round. “Over here, dogshit! Move!†she commanded hoarsely and it was obvious from her voice that Eleanor’s ordeal was far from over. She crawled forwards, right up to her mistress’s booted feet, where she cringed. Caroline’s back was to me, so I could not see her cruel smile, but I could sense it from the menace in her voice.

    “My boots are dirty, slave. I hope for your sake that you’ve brought your shoe brush with you.â€

    Eleanor snivelled at her feet. “Yes, my goddess,†she whimpered.

    “Where is it?â€

    “Between your slave’s worthless legs, my goddess.â€

    Caroline planted her feet more firmly apart. “Clean my left boot!â€

    Eleanor pushed herself up off her hands, squatted over Caroline’s left knee boot, and applied her crotch to it assiduously, flexing her pelvis back and forth, vigorously scrubbing it with the juice that seeped through her tortured pubic hair. Caroline stood in an exultant posture, feet firmly placed apart, and arms akimbo, while her slave’s pussy toiled at her boot. Then, without warning, her knee jerked forward into Eleanor’s face so that she fell back sprawling on the ground.

    Caroline stepped forward to stand menacingly over her quivering slave.

    “Did I tell you to stop, dog?â€

    “Please, mistress!â€
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  4. Susan Strict

    Susan Strict Member

    Caroline lunged forward, seized Eleanor’s hair, and forced her head back. The naked woman screamed afresh as the riding crop repeatedly slashed her heavy breasts. Then Caroline flung her down and watched her wriggle in agony at her feet for a few seconds, clutching her whipped nipples with trembling hands before pointing the crop imperiously at her right boot.

    “Now the other one! Move yourself, dog turd!â€

    Weeping, Eleanor turned herself over and crawled to the right boot. Crouching painfully over it, she applied her damp, hairy crotch to it, scrubbing it energetically backwards and forwards.

    Click! Click!

    “Enough!†rasped Caroline, bending her knee and pushing her shoe brush onto its back once more. “Now, what do you say to your goddess who’s allowed you to pleasure your disgusting sexual organs on her nice clean boots?â€

    Eleanor squirmed, her face pressed into the leaf mould between Caroline’s feet. “Your slave did not deserve such pleasure, my goddess.â€

    Standing with her back to me, Caroline now unclipped her own skirt and flung it aside. She wore no knickers, and she was splendidly naked between the tops of her boots and the hem of her jumper. I almost whooped for joy as I saw her magnificent bottom bared for the first time, like a monumental Henry Moore sculpture carved from alabaster. Every time her muscles flexed, a dimple appeared in the centre of each ample and perfect cheek. Oh, it would be paradise to grope that, to spank it, to whip it, to utterly master it.

    Click! Click! Click! Click!

    “Now, worship your goddess, slave!â€

    Eleanor wriggled forward on her hands and knees, and knelt between Caroline’s feet. I saw her hands come round the back of the boots and slowly rise past Caroline’s knees to linger as they stole up her strong thighs, lovingly stroking them. I saw the muscles in Caroline’s firm bottom cheeks flex with pleasure as Eleanor’s trembling hands stole up further and caressed them, reverently fondling her goddess’s bottom. Then her face rose; I caught a glimpse of her exultant expression before she buried it in Caroline’s crotch. Caroline gasped, her hips started to rotate slowly backwards and forwards, and her wonderful bottom creased and bulged by turns as the muscles flexed with pleasure, faster and faster as her excitement grew. She groaned, and the groaning quickened, her knees bent, and she folded her hands round the back of Eleanor’s head to pull her face more firmly into her slit.

    “More tongue, slave!†she moaned. “Much more tongue! Right up my cunt. Right up my cunt, I said!â€

    Click! Click! Click!

    I could not see Eleanor’s tongue, or even her face, which was completely submerged in Caroline’s cleft, but I fancied I could hear wet sloshing noises, and her vigorously moving throat muscles told me that her tongue was slaving hard in her mistress’s hole. Her hands twitched and her nails dug deep into Caroline’s majestic bottom, but she seemed not to mind as they gyrated ever faster. Her big bottom flexed powerfully, its cleavage opening and shutting, and her crack pounded up and down like a piston on Eleanor’s face as the entwined pair soared heavenwards to their Lesbian climax.

    Finally, Caroline gave a tremendous moan and her heaving bottom started to slow. “Lick it up! All my cum juice! All of it!†she gasped between heavy breaths, for she was panting like a horse and I could see sweat trickling down the cleft between her bulging bottom cheeks. The muscles in Eleanor’s throat worked and I saw that her tongue was slaving again, licking up every precious drop from her mistress’s dripping cunt, her slit, and her white, alabaster thighs.

    At last, the gyrations stopped; Caroline stepped back, raised her boot, and pushed Eleanor onto her back where she lay spread-eagled. Putting her hands on her hips, she heaved a few more heavy breaths. Then she turned towards me and I saw her pussy properly for the first time, winking between her strong thighs. The luxuriant brown hair that fringed it looked soft and silky. My mouth watered.


    Her blouse and bra had remained on throughout, and I longed to see her magnificent breasts, but that could wait, for I knew now that I would see them, feel them, chew them, whip them, and submit them to even more hellish torment than Eleanor’s had suffered. The contents of my camera ensured that I would have Caroline at my leisure: her tits, her bottom, and her cunt, both their cunts, and much more besides.

    She reached down for her shoulder bag, withdrew a pair of knickers, and slipped them on. Then she donned her skirt and tossed her riding crop into the bag. “I have no further use for you now, slave,†she said conversationally, gathering up Eleanor’s discarded garments, which she also stuffed into the bag.

    Eleanor rolled over, wallowing at her mistress’s feet. She clasped her hands together, pleading. “Please don’t desert your slave, my goddess. Please let her worship you further.â€

    “Silence, dog turd!†snapped Caroline as she started to walk away. Eleanor crawled after her clutching at her boots.

    “Don’t leave your slave, my goddess,†she wailed.

    Caroline pulled her boot away from Eleanor’s scrabbling hands and turned on her. “Get away from me! Or I’ll whip your filthy jugs right off you!â€

    “But your slave did everything for her goddess,†snivelled Eleanor

    Caroline smiled cruelly. “And now you’ve done it, your usefulness is at an end.â€

    Eleanor knelt before her and started to cry. “Please. Where shall your slave go?â€

    “Nowhere till its dark,†sneered Caroline lightly, “unless you want the whole village to see you naked and know you for what you are. And you do know what you are, don’t you?â€

    “Yes, my goddess.â€

    “What are you? Tell me again!â€

    “Your whipped and naked slave, my goddess.â€

    Caroline stood over her, exulting, and then seemed to relent slightly. “When it’s dark, you can crawl home and clean yourself up. Then you can come and serve me again. You can sweep my stair carpet with your brush. That’s all it’s good for now.â€

    Eleanor hung her head. “Thank you, my goddess. Your slave only wishes to serve and pleasure her goddess.â€

    Caroline sneered even more coldly. “And you’ll sweep the stair carpet thoroughly. If you leave one speck of dust on it I’ll thrash your filthy crack until it sizzles.â€

    “Your slave thanks her goddess.â€

    Caroline did not answer her, but strode from the spinney of trees, her big bottom swaying magnificently under her flowing skirt. Eleanor knelt there, naked and covered with whip marks. Her head still hung. She sniffed and wiped her nose with her arm. I lifted my camera to take another picture, but lowered it again.

    Despite my enjoyment when Caroline had whipped the tips of her flailing breasts, something in Eleanor’s plight touched a softer nerve in me. The lonely wretchedness that knelt in the darkling wood had no place in my frenzied fantasies. The light was fading and the temperature would soon fall. Eleanor would have to wait, naked and cold, for another two hours before it was dark enough to slink home safely. That would be easy enough in itself. She would creep across the field, then across the lane, through the trees and into the field that backed her cottage. Of course, in the dark, nettles, brambles, and sharp stones would make her way painful – and then she would be off to Caroline again for more humiliation and punishment.

    I wondered if they switched roles. I could see Eleanor wielding a whip with an evil gleam in her eye, her pointed face exulting. Yet somehow, I could not see her deserting Caroline as Caroline had just deserted her, neither could I see Caroline enduring it. Did Eleanor just love pain and humiliation? Did she need it? Or did she simply need Caroline? Was she in love with her? So it appeared, but what love endures such cold abuse? The whipping I could understand but the desertion was harder to fathom. It hinted at cold sadism that was not sexual. I would never have done that to Sandra, nor would she have allowed it.

    Dusk was falling fast. I slid silently from beneath my gorse bush under cover of the evening breeze that rustled the leaves above us. I knew I could have shagged Eleanor there and then. I could have pushed her down on all fours and shagged her to my heart’s content. I could have marched across to her, pulled her up by the hair, and given her twenty-five of the trouser belt for starters, then drilled her good and proper, cunt and arse. God knows I wanted to shag her. What could she have done about it? Would she have wanted to? She might be a dyke, but she wanted cock. Her performance with the dildo proved that, as had the smouldering glances. Though she was as yet unaware if it, she was going to get plenty of hard shagging – among other things.

    That moment could wait. Besides, much as I desperately wanted to get stuck into Eleanor, the one I wanted to whip and break was Caroline. I decided that I no longer liked her very much. I would still screw her senseless, but I no longer liked her. Her cruelty was too cold for me, but that would soon change. Soon, she would be taking regular whippings whether she liked it or not, and they would be very severe indeed. Much as she obviously thought herself a cruel dominatrix, she had yet to learn from me the full dictionary definition of the noun punishment]/I].

    All Grendel Butler’s books can be found on Taboo Reading
  5. viva.shorin

    viva.shorin New Member

    more stories pls bro
  6. UsalKav131

    UsalKav131 Member

    Like all dark, secret places, it seems a fitting setting for sinister rituals and shameful deeds, a place for witches and warlocks to perform their satanic rites, an altar for sacrifices, a resort for discreet homosexuals, and a venue for everything furtive.
    everyone has a similar place - but so vividly describe not everyone is able, awesome!

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